


101 Uses for a Flaming Sword

by JoseyxNeko



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 101 uses for a flaming sword, 2005 Nostalgia, Anymore tags and I'll just spoil the whole thing, Bad sword fighting skills, Comedy, Crack, Humor, M/M, Other, Prompt: Flaming Sword, Sorry Not Sorry, That melting marshmallows on the flamming sword trope, You know when the prompt is crack but you write something lovely instead?, alright one more, unBeta'd because I wrote this in like two hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22895401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoseyxNeko/pseuds/JoseyxNeko
Summary: Aziraphale wants to posses the Flaming Sword again, but has no idea how to use it. He comes up with a few ideas.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Flaming Sword, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	101 Uses for a Flaming Sword

**Author's Note:**

> Crack Prompt: Flaming Sword, go wild.
> 
> I'm really quite enjoying writing these prompts, and failing to make them at all smutty. I know it's still putting off my unfinished works, but it's nice to be creative again.
> 
> Enjoy!

After the Nahpocalypse, Aziraphale revealed that having his flaming sword back in his possession, for however short a period, had left him nostalgic.

That’s the knowledge Crowley possessed when he woke up one morning to find the Angel missing from their bed in the South Downs cottage.

He searched high and low through the house; the library, the study, the kitchen, the wine cellar- all empty of the love of his life.

Then he heard a noise coming from outside.

It sounded like the Angel was in trouble. He was making grunting, strained noises.

Terrified that Heaven had come back for him to wreak their revenge, Crowley burst through their patio doors, and was horrified by what he saw.

Crowley was proud of the internet. It was one of the finest things he’d influenced the creation of. Humans isolated themselves on the internet, isolated each other on the internet, and then there was the infinite amounts of porn.

Yes, he was proud of the porn.

His most favourite by-product of the internet, however, was **Viral Videos**.

Everyone has seen Star Wars kid, right? That video that someone edited of a kid swinging his broom around, to make it a lightsaber and infinitely more better?

Crowley was hit with an ungodly wave of 2005 nostalgia when, in their own garden, he came across Aziraphale swinging the flaming sword around, as if fighting off a thousand laser blasters, or ninjas, or something.

The sound of the backdoors crashing against the outside of the building startled Aziraphale so badly, he dropped the sword, with it landing on his foot. He hopped up quickly, grabbing his shoe, blowing on it comically.

The sword continued to flame, scorching Crowley’s prized lawn.

“ANGEL. What _are_ you doing?!” Crowley huffed, marching up to the ethereal being hopping on one foot, and saving his blades of grass from any more divine torment by snatching the sword up by the hilt.

Aziraphale reflexively cowered as the sword was ‘brandished’ towards him, his slightly melted shoe still raised off the floor gingerly.

Crowley let out an exasperated sigh and threw the sword onto the patio. The concrete could do with a short smoulder.

He whisked his Angel up into his arms, and carried him princess-style over to their garden swing seat. He set him down, took off his shoe, and found no damage to his actual the foot. The shoe, however, had had it.

“Oh, thank you my dear!” Aziraphale said, all blushes and smiles.

It made Crowley’s heart _ache_.

“Don’t try and distract me by being all-” he gestured with his hand, “ _lovely_. What were you doing?! _Why_ have you got the flaming sword?”

Aziraphale blushed again, in embarrassment this time, and cleared his throat. “It’s- it’s silly, I suppose. I just missed it, you know. The weight of it in my hand, the warmth. I guess I was just trying to get a feel for my old battle style.”

“Your old battle style in fighting off a barrage of fallen Angels? How many did you hit??”

“None.” Aziraphale looked meek. “I stood there wielding my sword like that, and no one would come near me.”

Crowley tried. He _really_ tried. Then he burst out laughing, and joined the Angel on the seat, swinging roughly back and fore.

Aziraphale pouted. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?! I came out unscathed, and I didn’t have to harm anyone in the process.”

Crowley’s chuckles died down, and he swung them gently on the seat, enjoying the Autumn breeze rustling through his growing hair.

“Well Angel, you have your sword back, and you have no idea how to use it.”

Aziraphale shuffled indignantly next to him, inadvertently wriggling himself closer. Crowley lifted his arm and wrapped it around the Angel’s shoulders.

“Aziraphale. What the _Heaven_ are you going to use that flaming sword for?!” Crowley only gagged a little bit at the word _Heaven_.

“I’ll find a use for it.”

And he did.

\--

The next morning, Crowley awoke again to an empty bed, and a fire alarm going off inside the house.

Getting _Bookshop-on-the-day-of-the-Nahpocalypse_ flashbacks, he flew out of bed and directly towards the smell of the burning.

He dread to think of Hell coming for him, and getting their hands on Aziraphale instead. If they touched one sunshine curl on that perfect head of his-

“Good morning, dear. Jam?”

Aziraphale offered him a plate of _quite burnt_ toast, on a tray with a pot of jam and a spreading knife.

Crowley looked up. Aziraphale was slicing a fresh loaf of bread from the oven with the sword, oblivious to the beeping of the ‘Toast-proof’ fire alarm (one of Crowley’s finest inventions).

He sighed, took the tray from the Angel’s hands with an _“Alright”_ , and sat at the breakfast table.

“How does it taste, my dear?” He asked, as the Demon took a bite.

“Holy.”

\--

The next few mornings were much less eventful, in that Aziraphale was beside him in bed when he woke, reading his book by _sword light_.

“Angel, just use your halo like always,” Crowley groaned, burying his face in his pillow.

“You wanted me to find a use for it, and I have,” Aziraphale said smugly.

When the flames got a little bit too close to the pages of his precious books, Aziraphale promptly switched back to the usual halo light.

\--

“Angel, what _are_ you doing?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Crowley tilted his head one way, and then the other, and pouted.

“Is that a Gabriel sex doll?”

“WHAT?! No! It’s a- _Is that a Gabriel sex doll?_ indeed. It’s an effigy.”

And indeed, it was.

The doll had an oversized head, a gelled mop for hair, and big purple eyes. Its body was a child’s grey suit ( _“Adam’s. He wore it for a wedding, and has outgrown it,”_ Aziraphale explained), and a suspiciously accurate tie (Aziraphale has swiped it when Gabriel was on a date with the Prince of Hell. Crowley did _not_ want to know), all filled with straw.

“And what are we doing with this effigy?” Crowley enounced carefully.

“Ah!” Aziraphale raised a knowing finger, grabbed the doll by its neck, and led Crowley into the garden.

Crowley was mortified by the sight before him.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley cringed, “my _lawn_.” 

“Oh pish, it’ll grow back.”

“That’d take a miracle.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“...Point taken. Alright. We can do this on one condition.” Crowley conceded.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “And what’s that?”

“I get to hold the sword.”

Aziraphale considered it. “Deal.”

Crowley picked the sword up in his hand as the Angel threw the Gabriel effigy onto a tall pile of twigs, sticks, branches, and flammables, already carefully checked for any wildlife.

The Demon could barely contain his joy at jabbing the flaming sword into the centre of the pile, watching it alight and burn before his eyes. He even almost forgot about the grass getting ruined beneath it.

Aziraphale sighed. “I miss Guy Fawkes.”

“Mmm, me too Angel,” Crowley agreed. “Nice kid.”

“Wrong crowd,” Aziraphale added.

They settled away from the flames, arms wrapped around each other, and gladly watched Gabriel burn.

It was the best November 5th they’d had in a long time. 

\--

A week or so later, Crowley found Aziraphale in the kitchen clutching a bag of giant marshmallows with a forlorn look on his face.

“What’s wrong, Angel?”

Aziraphale turned to him. “When I mentioned to Adam why I needed a small grey suit, he suggested I melt some marshmallows on the bonfire to enjoy too. Only, I forgot I’d bought them.”

Crowley hated to see his Angel so sad.

“Tell you what, love, invite the kids round, and we’ll have a small campfire in the garden.”

And so they did.

The smile that broke out on Aziraphale’s face as he walked the kids into the garden and found Crowley jamming the hilt of the flaming sword into the burnt soil was beyond compare of any that came before it, and made Crowley shiver with the desire of trying to match it in the future.

They huddled around it together, marshmallows skewered onto sticks, and had a bloody wonderful time.

\--

“Angel, you’ve made your point. You’ve found plenty of uses for the sword, you can stop now.”

Aziraphale lifted his mug and sipped smugly at his cocoa.

He replaced the mug to the flat of the flaming swords blade to stay warmed, and went back to his book.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, as it fuels my creativity. Kudos are appreciated too :)
> 
> The tag for all these Crack Prompts is now 'Perfectly Horrid Velocipedes'. And the collection can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PerfectlyHorridVelocipedes).  
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/joseyxneko).  
> 


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